A Frightening Fangs-giving

by Addison Moore

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, quickly handing the tiny furry tots to Emmie. “I didn’t realize you were so allergic. I hope Fish didn’t bother you back at the inn. Fish is my cat, the one that sits at the reception counter.”

  She waves it off. “She didn’t bother me at all. I’m fine as long as I’m not snuggling with them. And as you just witnessed, sometimes I can’t help myself.” She snatches up the small square of a napkin under her drink and quickly blows her nose, and Emmie kicks me.

  You’d better speed this up, Bizzy, or she’s going to have to leave now that we’ve ignited her allergies. The next thing you know, she’ll have a headache.

  I straighten at the thought because, of course, Emmie is right.

  “Marigold?” I lean her way. “How well did you know Flint Butler?”

  She blinks hard at the mention of his name. “Well enough to know he was a two-timer. Can you believe that sleaze put the moves on me?”

  “No,” I say, mostly in disbelief, although seeing that he was already two-timing Ember with my own sister, this news shouldn’t surprise me.

  “Yes,” she muses. “He’s as slimy as they come. I guess his profession is well-suited to him. My mother always said don’t trust a politician. She wanted me to marry well, but was wise enough to offer up a few caveats.” She giggles while toasting us with her drink.

  Emmie leans in. “She sounds wise.”

  “She was.” Marigold takes a long breath. “She passed last year, and the only family I have now is Warner.” Her eyes close a moment too long. And God knows he won’t be here for long. I’m going to be alone. She sags in her seat as she looks out at the dance floor. With nothing but conga lines in my future. And why is that woman wearing a quilt?

  I shoot a quick look to Georgie. “Marigold, have you ever heard Flint or Ember mention anyone by the name of Laurel Crabtree?” I know for a fact she has. Now let’s see if she’s up for playing along.

  “Come to think of it, I have.” She tips her face toward the ceiling. “I think Ember said it once during one of those epic shouting matches she had with Flint. You know, for a man who is all smiles on the outside, he was sure capable of shooting off some verbal fireworks, if you know what I mean. Ember and Flint had their fair share of blowouts.”

  Emmie inches in a bit closer. “What were they fighting over?”

  “Couldn’t have been money.” Marigold shakes her head. “Ember was going to be set up for life. Her father’s fortune would have all fallen on her.” She wrinkles her nose. “Flint said something once about doing anything to keep her from embarrassing him.” A wry smile takes over her lips. “Okay, this is what I know, but I sort of feel bad telling you this.” She grimaces. “I heard about your sister being arrested yesterday. I wasn’t going to bring it up but, since it’s out in the open, I want to tell you how sorry I am.”

  Emmie snorts. “Don’t be. We expected this from her eventually.” She looks my way. How am I doing?

  A little too well, I want to say.

  “She’s not wrong.” I shrug. “Go on.” I nod to Marigold.

  “Well, it turns out, I heard the name Macy coming from Ember’s lips, too. She said something about that witch wasn’t about to get away with stealing her life. Her words, not mine. She also mentioned something about turning the tables and giving Macy a taste of her own medicine.”

  “Turning the tables?”

  Marigold gives a sorrowful nod. “Ember had found solid evidence linking your sister to Flint. I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but she was seeing Flint behind Ember’s back, knowing full well the man was in a relationship. Now don’t get me wrong, I know it takes two to tango, but I’d like to think a woman would know better.”

  My shoulders sag. “I just discovered that myself. And sadly, my sister doesn’t seem to know better.”

  Emmie does her best to wrangle all three kittens into her lap. “I bet that’s why Ember opened that knockoff candle shop across from Lather and Light. It was nothing more than a way to show Macy who was boss.”

  “Wow,” I muse. “You got to hand it to Ember. She was a master at revenge. Hey? I bet Ember blackmailed Flint into sticking around after the fact.” That explains why he was looking to break up with her that day.

  Emmie clutches onto my arm with a death grip. “I bet Ember knew that Flint did away with that Laurel chick!”

  Marigold gasps. “He did away with her? I knew he was bad, but I had no idea he was dangerous.”

  “I guess he is,” I pant. “I wonder how I could possibly track down anyone who knew that woman.”

  Marigold shrugs. “I’m sure people aren’t that hard to track down these days with the internet and all.”

  “You’d be surprised,” I tell her.

  She twists her lips. “Have you thought of asking Flint? I mean, he may not give you a straight answer, but if he did something to another one of his exes, and that’s who I’m assuming this is, you might get a visceral reaction from him just by mentioning her name.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” I say.

  A husky laugh trembles from Emmie. “Some men’s facial expressions are so easy to read, it’s almost as if you’re reading their minds.”

  I nod her way. And that’s exactly what I plan on doing.

  Georgie comes back, red-faced and sweating, and quickly tosses her quilt to the ground before pulling her kaftan off in one fell swoop as well.

  “Georgie!” I panic at the sight of her in an old yellowing bra and a pair of white underwear that can double as a parachute. “What are you doing?”

  “Relax, Bizzy. I’m just setting the tone for the rest of the night. Besides, people wear less to the beach.”

  Why does it feel as if I’ve got an ornery teenager on my hands?

  She scoops up my drink and downs half of it before three different men head this way and clamor for her number.

  Emmie grabs the quilt and tosses it over Georgie while I fill Marigold in on the impromptu vigil Cider Cove is having for Ember this Friday night.

  “That’s so nice of you, Bizzy.” She clutches at her neck. “Of course, I’ll be there.” And that means revisiting the scene of the crime. My God, how I never wanted to go back there.

  “It’ll be in the front,” I’m quick to reassure her. “You won’t have to worry about setting foot in that alley again.”

  “Thank goodness,” she says under her breath. “Good luck tracking down Laurel.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her. “I’m going to need it.”

  And as fate would have it, I need a bit of luck to pluck Georgie off of that dance floor once again.

  All the way back to Cider Cove, Georgie petitions for a bar to be installed at the inn. And she swears on her life that she’ll keep her clothes on at the bar if I do. But I assure her it’s not happening. Just like the fact my sister isn’t going to rot in a prison cell.

  Flint Butler has a skeleton in his closet, and it just so happens that her name is Laurel Crabtree.

  I’m about to deep dive into the internet and see if I can’t rattle that skeleton yet. And if not, come Friday, I might just rattle Flint himself.

  Whatever it takes.

  That’s exactly what I’m going to do to free my sister.

  Don’t worry, Macy. I’m about to make a grown man cry if I have to just to bust you out of that holding tank. And something tells me, my sister would enjoy that little watery-eyed fact as sure as if she did it herself.

  Chapter 13

  The November wind blows the last of the leaves from the already skeletal trees as a crowd amasses along Main Street right in front of Suds and Illuminations. It didn’t take long for word to get out, and soon the entire town seems to have poured in to pay their last respects to Ember.

  I was going to have Jordy run out and pick up a couple hundred tapered candles for the event, but Willow had stopped by the inn to give me some inventory for the spa and she said she had more than enough candles for the vigil tonight. And as t
he day grows dim, we collectively illuminate the evening in Ember’s honor with the very candles she was set to sell in that store she opened up as a means of vengeance against my sister. It’s a sad story all the way around.

  The tiny orange twinkle lights strung up over Main Street glitter like a string of citrine stars. Tons of silk maple leaves have been strung around the doorframes and awnings of all the local businesses, and autumn wreaths filled with colorful leaves dot the doorways. The lampposts have been festooned with leaves and pumpkins in preparation for the big Founders’ Day parade this Thursday. The high school and the auxiliary leagues are creating floats in every shape and size. And rumor has it, Cider Cove has procured quite a few of those enormous balloons, the kind you see at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. I have a feeling this is going to be a Thanksgiving to remember.

  Our local pastor says a few kind words about Ember, and after a brief moment of silence the crowd begins to disperse, growing livelier by the second.

  Jasper had to work late, but he said he would drive straight over and so I stand with Fish and Sherlock off to the side, watching as the crowd begins to mingle. Fish is warm in my arms, and I’ve got the kittens in my cat stroller. Already about three different women have asked whether I had a boy or a girl in there, so I told them the only thing I could: girls—triplets to be exact. Two of the three women looked as if they were going to pass out on my behalf.

  Fish yowls, There’s Mayor Woods, Bizzy. She looks shifty to me. I sense she’s up to something. She lifts a paw, and I look in that direction.

  Across the street, right next to the Lather and Light, I spot Mackenzie looking shifty as she keeps her head on swivel. And before I can think to head in her direction—and accuse her of looking to sink her teeth into another male victim—someone steps right up to her, a man no less.

  “It looks as if you were right, Fish,” I whisper.

  Sherlock barks. I’d head over there to see what they were saying, but I wouldn’t put it past her to kick me.

  Sadly, I wouldn’t either. “I’d like to think she wouldn’t resort to a foot to the rear, but she definitely wouldn’t be showering you with bacon.”

  The man in question is tall, dark hair with a heavy wool coat, and from this distance, he seems handsome enough to fit the cheating bill. I hold my breath as Mackenzie picks up his hand. It almost looks as if she’s studying it and—touching all of his fingers? Boy, I knew she was weird, but this is next level.

  Fish mewls. What kind of a greeting is that, Bizzy? Is that what humans do before they get to licking?

  It’s called kissing. Sherlock barks. And I’ve never seen Jasper or Bizzy shake hands that way.

  “Nor will you. It’s weird.”

  He pulls her into a hard embrace and lands a kiss to her cheek while she laughs at something he’s telling her.

  I bet that’s Elliot, the mystery man she was looking for the other day.

  I quickly pull out my phone and snap a half a dozen pictures of them.

  Goodbye to you, Mackenzie Woods. I am so relived you are finally out of my brother’s life for good. As much as we were starting to get along again, I couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in the back of my mind, and now I know why.

  Then just as quickly as he showed up, the mystery man stalks off, and she’s left shifting from foot to foot again as she glowers into the crowd. She’s probably placing a pox on the entire town. Figures.

  Well, it’s curtains for you, Mayor Woods. And I say good riddance. I can’t wait to find a nice girl for Hux to date.

  Who am I kidding? I’d be fine with a nice cobra so long as it wasn’t that viper.

  The sound of music coming from a choppy speaker emanates from behind, and I turn to find a horror manifesting as it strides this way. Juni holds a boombox up on her shoulders while my mother and Georgie wheel shopping carts this way laden down with dozens of colorful quilts.

  “Oh no.” I can’t help but moan.

  Georgie cups her hands around her mouth. “Wonky quilts! Come and get your red-hot wonky quilts!”

  Emmie tiptoes my way as if she was afraid to be seen by them. Can’t say I blame her. I plan on denying any knowledge of those women if it comes down to it.

  “Bizzy, do something,” she hisses. “They look like a couple of bag ladies.”

  “They are a couple of bag ladies. Bag ladies in training.”

  Fish howls, Make it stop, Bizzy.

  Sherlock belts out a sharp bark. Quick! Unleash the kittens! The crowd needs to be sidelined with cuteness.

  “It’s too late.” I shake my head as the three of them walk right down the middle of the street like some awful parade.

  Georgie eschews her hands for a bona fide bullhorn this time as she plucks one from her shopping cart. “Buy one wonky quilt, get a double pack of turkey toes for free!”

  An entire group of women quickly mobs them as if turkey toes were the very incentive they were holding out for.

  “Turkey toes?” Emmie looks as if she might be sick. “Should I ask the obvious?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “It will never make sense.”

  I crane my neck into the crowd. “I still don’t see Flint.”

  “He’s a politician. They come late and leave early. He’s a weasel, but I have faith he’ll show,” she says, taking Fish from me. “Do you mind? I’m freezing.”

  “Have at her,” I say just as Jasper and Leo step out of the crowd.

  “You two look familiar,” I tease as Jasper flexes a wry smile.

  “I thought I knew you, but now I’m not so sure.” He wraps his arms around me and dots a kiss to my lips. “Leo just told me that you and Emmie questioned Marigold Sweet at some dive bar.”

  A hard frown takes over his face and lets me know exactly what he thinks of my bar crawl.

  “What?” I shoot Emmie a quick look. It’s not her fault. She didn’t know I was taking this investigation in a Jasper-free direction. “It wasn’t a dive bar. It was the Marblehead Lounge at the Blue Horse Inn. And besides, not only was I checking out the competition, Georgie had a conga line to tend to.”

  His brows swoop in. “Why does that make sense to me?”

  Leo bucks with a laugh. “Because you’ve met Georgie.” He sobers up quickly as he hooks his arms around Emmie. “Look, I’m not crazy about the fact you went with her. Bizzy isn’t looking to exchange recipes with anyone. She’s looking for a killer.”

  Emmie scoffs. “Well, if you’ve had her cooking, you’d know her recipes were equally as lethal.”

  I bite down on a laugh, but I can tell Emmie is starting to simmer.

  “Don’t worry about me, Leo,” she snips. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Oh?” he balks as if he were amused. “Are you bulletproof? Because if that killer thinks you’re onto them, things could get deadly fast. Do us both a favor and don’t egg Bizzy on. The next time she wants to go after a suspect, call me. I’ll go in her place.”

  “Did you say egg me on?” I blink back with disbelief. “I’ll have you know I’ve scrambled up a killer or two and served them up to the sheriff’s department with a side of bacon—and by bacon, I mean justice,” I tell him, and Sherlock barks with approval.

  “Whoa”—Jasper hooks his gaze to mine—“Leo is right. Look, Bizzy, I told you specifically to stay out of this once your sister was arrested. You’re too close to the case. You could point a finger at the wrong person just to land someone other than Macy behind bars. I’m afraid I’m going to have to demand you step back from this.”

  “You’re going to demand?” I slide his arms off my waist, and all four cats in the vicinity mewl in a panic.

  “I’m sorry, Bizzy.” Jasper’s eyes glow against the dark clouds clotting up the sky. “But I’m putting my foot down, not only as your husband, but as the law. I’d like for you to live to see our first Christmas, and if you keep running around questioning people, you may not live to see our first Thanksgiving.”

  An incr
edulous roar rips through me.

  “You think I’m incompetent,” I say, jabbing my finger to his chest.

  “I didn’t say that.” His hands ride up by his head as if I just pointed a weapon at him. “I simply want to keep you safe.”

  “Oh yeah?” I growl over at him. “Well, who’s keeping my sister safe?”

  Fish looks at something behind me, and her eyes spring as wide as twin dimes.

  I think I’m seeing a ghost! she roars so loud all four of us look in that direction.

  And for a second, I think I’m seeing a ghost as well.

  “Macy?” I shout her name as I give a hard blink. Striding this way, clad in a red suit, and with a look of fiery fury in her eyes, is my feisty sister. My brother is bobbing about ten feet behind her as if he were struggling to keep up, and I have no doubt he is.

  “That’s right,” she growls with all of her pent-up anger pointed straight at my other half. “I’m back.” She pokes her own finger against Jasper’s chest, and I have a feeling he’s going to be mighty sore by the end of the night. “And you, buster, are getting a divorce! Expect to be served with papers, or have papers filed or whatever it is my brother is about to do to dissolve your unholy union from my sister.” She bites the air with each word, and Sherlock barks as if he were joining in on her rage.

  Hux quickly holds out his hands between Macy and Jasper as if he felt the need to physically separate the two of them.

  “Nobody is getting a divorce,” Hux announces before leaning my way. “That is, unless you want one. I’m good for unlimited matrimonial dissolutions whenever you need them, Biz, but I’d space ’em out a little better if I were you.”

  Georgie hops into our circle of fire. “What’s this? The two of you are calling it quits already? Aw, shucks.” She elbows Jasper in the ribs, and I’d swear I just heard the breath expire from his lungs. “Don’t you worry, kid.” She points in my direction. “Macy’s going to write a book on how-to-catch a man, and we’ll both be back in business soon enough.” She plucks a bag of candy corn from her pocket. “Have some turkey toes. They always put a smile on my face.” She hands them my way before jumping back into the crowd. “Turkey toes! Come and get your red-hot turkey toes!”